


A New Fetish

by quiet__tiger



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Humor, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 15:24:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10699788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiet__tiger/pseuds/quiet__tiger
Summary: Bruce gives in to a sudden new temptation.





	A New Fetish

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to Livejournal Oct. 8th, 2009.

Bruce awoke slowly, sunlight not quite in his eyes but close enough. He could hear the shower running, which meant it was too late to fool around with Clark. His lover liked to let him sleep if they’d had a long night out patrolling. That damn drug shipment coming into a different dock than where it was supposed to have landed…

Bruce rolled over onto his back, and realized he was covered by something other than his sheet or blanket. It took another few seconds for him to remember that after a quick shower the night before, a few hours ago, Clark had flown them upstairs wrapped in his cape. That’s what was hitched up around Bruce’s waist now, the material familiar yet not against the bare skin of his hips and thighs.

And with a twitch of his hips, against his cock, which was partially hard. He reached down with one hand to scratch then rub, and finally opened his eyes to see how the bright red material looked against his pale skin. The reflection of light from the cape flushed his growing erection red.

Getting more comfortable, he sat up a little against his ornate headboard, and stroked himself a little harder. Just because Clark didn’t want to start anything that would make either of them late didn’t mean he couldn’t take care of himself quickly while Clark was otherwise occupied.

And, dammit, he was curious about the cape. Usually Clark was _with_ the cape, and generally he held more of Bruce’s attention than fabric. Curious fabric though it was. And here it was without its owner, tucked around Bruce, and it felt nice when he rubbed against it.

First he just pulled the fabric over his cock, lightly at first then harder once he decided it didn’t scratch too much. It slid across his hot skin almost perfectly. The material was like spandex but a little thicker, and sort of slippery but not quite. Whatever the fabric was, it provided just the right kind of friction.

Bruce couldn’t help but thrust his hips a little once he got into a nice rhythm just sliding the cape up and down his cock. Pretty soon, though, it wasn’t enough resistance. It was pleasurable, sure, but it would eventually be more frustrating than exciting. What was Bruce to _do_ but bunch part of the cape in his fist and jerk himself properly?

Slick material against his hot skin and the perfect touches of his hands rubbing and squeezing and sliding the material almost brought him off, but he backed off before he really did come from thinking about a piece of _fabric_. Bruce Wayne did not have sex with inanimate objects, especially not when his lover was a few feet away.

But damn, this wasn’t _any_ inanimate object, it was _Superman’s cape_. _Super_ man. How many people got to be near enough to Superman, physically or emotionally, to get up close and personal with his cape? Not like this, the cape’s unique texture teasing Bruce in a way that was different than anything else he’d ever used.

He was reminded of the way the cape felt under his back when they used it to cover a hard surface, the way it brushed against his calves and shins when Clark took him from behind, the way it wrapped against Clark’s body like he’d always wanted to before he had permission… The way it emphasized Clark’s broad shoulders, hid his sculpted back and ass from other prying eyes, the way the man wore it so damn proudly even though it was so damn _bright_ …

It wasn’t just fabric. It wasn’t just a cape. It was a piece of Clark that helped make him who he was. In a lot of ways it _was_ him: it had his crest on it, and it was strong but yielding, loose yet balanced, open while secretive…

Clearly Bruce needed to just come already so he could start making sense again and stop romanticizing a piece of cloth.

“Screw it.” Bruce tightened his grip and stroked harder, fabric rubbing against the head of his cock as his hand moved it up and down his shaft. It was so wrong, but it felt damn good.

Once he got into the rhythm, wrist flexing and hips thrusting, cape teasing him just _so_ , he came quickly and hard. Most of his come landed on his chest and stomach, but some got caught in the cape. It didn’t soak into it, however, just sort of rested on the surface. Interesting. Perhaps it—

“ _Bruce!_ Ma made me that cape.”

Face flushing with guilt, Bruce looked towards the bathroom door, where Clark stood with a black towel wrapped around his waist. “Sorry?” Pointless to say it wasn’t what it looked like.

Shaking his head, Clark crossed the distance to the bed. “I leave you alone for five minutes and you defile my cape.”

“Eight and a half.”

“Whatever.”

“I really do apologize. I don’t know what came over me.” He really didn’t. “Can you wash it?”

“I’ll have to try. I can’t very well go back to Ma and say you fornicated with it.”

“Technically it wasn’t consensual…”

Clark stared at him. Finally he dropped his eyes to Bruce’s semen-covered front and shook his head. “I’d say I’d get even with _your_ cape, but I think that thing would chafe even me.”

“Avoid the weighted tips. I have better toys in my utility belt, anyway.”

“That is certainly true.” Bruce thought of that time on the roof of the Daily Planet, testing the fingertip Taser… Oh yes. “Join me in the shower next time if I wake you.”

“Stay in bed with me.”

“Work. I’m going to be late as it is. And I have to fly back with come on my cape.” Clark tried to pout, but he didn’t get very far before his lips twitched upwards again. Bruce knew Clark could never be too mad at him. Not about _this_ , anyway.

“I couldn’t help it. I thought of how good you look in it, what it means to you, and I just…lost control. …It feels good, too.”

Thoughtfully, Clark answered, “Bruce Wayne losing control… I’ll have to figure a way to use this to my advantage. But for now I have to go.” Using his speed, Clark dried himself and dressed in his costume, looking every inch the Superman the world adored. …except for the spot Bruce was sure was right under that fold along his shoulder…

“Have a good day at work. And again, I’m sorry.”

Clark kissed him quickly and ran a hand through Bruce’s hair. “Make it up to me.” And with a swirl of that newly-tantalizing cape, he was gone.

How exactly was Bruce supposed to make this up?

He’d have to figure out a kink of Clark’s.

Or maybe take advantage of the known one about doing the owner of the paper in the conference room at the Daily Planet…


End file.
